Of Enemies That Crawl
by Shipperwolf
Summary: When a case has the team staying late in the bullpen, Ziva learns that not all enemies have to wield guns, she IS in fact, a woman, and her partner isn't mocking her about it all quite as much as he should be...


Friends, it's severe-early A.M at this particular point in time. And dear Sophie just inspired me to write this...silly thingfic.

This is what happens when I don't get enough sleep or adorable Tony/Ziva moments in my system.

Enjoy!

I disclaim all!

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><p>It was late.<p>

Too late to still be working.

And yet, there they were: Team Gibbs, still awake at midnight, still sitting at their desks long after NCIS had dimmed the lights around them and Abby had skip-hopped past their desks bidding them a good night.

Their leader chugged down his eleventh cup of coffee that day as he thumbed through files.

McGee typed away at his computer with a pace far too slow for his expertise. His eyes appeared to water a bit as they stared into the screen, seemingly unblinking.

Tony DiNozzo tilted his head back lazily and stared at the ceiling. His computer hummed and reminded him of the agonizingly long case they needed to get solved.

Even Ziva David was losing her grip on the waking world; elbow digging into the short stack of papers on her desk, the pen in her other hand tapped erratically on the edge of it to keep her awake.

Silence filled the room, and the dim light made grogginess impossible to avoid.

The former Mossad agent grit her teeth in annoyance as her vision threatened to blur from consistent yawning. When she first arrived at NCIS, her training would have never allowed her to succumb to such…..

A flash of black invaded her vision.

Small and quick, it scurried from one end of her desk to the other.

No….it did not scurry.

It _crawled_. Quick-like.

Ziva was awake in an instant, her eyes going wide and the primordial order of '_panic! escape!'_ rushed through her veins and into her consciousness before she could even blink. The chair was doubled backward in her attempt to distance herself from her desk, and before the seemingly fearless woman could stop herself, her mouth opened of its own accord.

"Tony! _KILL IT_!"

Everything stopped.

The quiet slurping sound from Gibbs' desk stopped. The lazy, exhausted typing from McGee's direction stopped.

The creaking of Tony's bent-back chair most definitely stopped.

The bullpen was dead- truly dead- for a split moment in time.

And then Tony was across the aisle to her desk before she had the chance to retract her panicked (seriously, had she just _squeaked?_) outcry.

His grin betrayed the dying alarm in his eyes. Her outburst had obviously jolted him. Standing straight now, looking at him from the other side of her desk, she nearly brought herself to apologize for making him worry.

Until she heard him chuckle.

"Problem, Zee? See a bug?" His teeth were bright in the darkness of the bullpen, and for the first time since she'd met Tony, she truly _hated_ those teeth.

"I….I don't know. Maybe. It does not matter. It's gone now."

Adjusting her chair back into an upright position, Ziva knew her face was heating up. How could she have…_reacted_ like that? Shameful….

And the fact that Tony was not leaving his spot in front of her was not helping.

"Are you sure? It could be hiding in those papers. Or on the underside of your desk. Or…" He trailed off when she set her old "Ninja" glare on him.

The wild, amused smile remained. How she detested (and a_dored_) that smile….

"I'm certain it is gone. And even if it is not, it's nothing I cannot handle. If it comes back I will kill it myself." Did he notice her voice was still way too high?

As she sat back down, pulled the now scattered papers back into an organized pile, and retrieved her pen from its landing spot on the floor, she inhaled- her head clearing, a self-reminder of the things she was capable of repeating in her mind like a broken record.

She was a trained assassin, for God's sake….

If all the enemies of Mossad _and_ NCIS combined could not reduce her to a wide-eyed, high-pitched 13-year-old, she was certainly not going to let something as ridiculous as a _bug_ do so.

"It was probably a roach, Ziver. Had one run across the floor last night. Already got an exterminator coming in next Monday. Everyone, back to work so we can get this done and go home. That means _you_, DiNozzo." Low and tired, Gibbs' voice lacked its normally commanding tone. Nevertheless, Ziva nodded his way and re-focused.

Until Tony cast a shadow over the dim lamp-light on her desk as he leaned in.

Her eyebrows rose when she looked up, realizing his face was mere inches from hers. She could feel his breath; smell the combination of Dr. Pepper and chewing gum.

"Don't worry, Ziva. If it comes back, just call out my name again. I'll come save you." His whisper met her ears, sarcastically wicked and quietly somber at the same time.

For an instant, she glowered at the twinkle of amusement in his eyes…

Until they suddenly sharpened with a strange seriousness as he finished his mocking statement. Ziva felt her stomach tighten in both anger and…something else…

With not a word further, Tony turned and walked slowly, lazily, back to his desk.

A quick look around had Ziva thankful that McGee had taken Gibbs seriously and was still staring at his computer screen instead of at her.

Gibbs himself was polishing off the last of his coffee.

Ziva returned her gaze to the man across from her.

Tony gave her a quick smirk and a slow wink that did not match the distant echoing gravity in his eyes.

Not only did Ziva refuse to admit that she had been frightened by a tiny, helpless bug, she also denied the voice in her head telling her that if she did indeed see it again, she _would _call for Tony to save her.


End file.
